


you've got a lot of nerve, half-naked in my bed

by darlingjustdont



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending (sort of), M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, they're very angry at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingjustdont/pseuds/darlingjustdont
Summary: it’s been five fucking years and nick’s still not gotten used to harry coming and going, to harry disappearing for fucking months and then showing up like nothing’s wrong. nick pretends he’s fine with it but something catches in his chest every time he thinks about it.he doesn’t think about it often.harry can't stay in one place and nick can't take it anymore.





	you've got a lot of nerve, half-naked in my bed

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a short, little thing, but i've been writing it for a year now. it's like 75% angst and hurt feelings, and 25% making out. thank you to maddie for reading it halfway through and being so kind about it and thank you to justine for beta'ing!!! you guys are the best <3
> 
> title taken from "first defeat" by noah gundersen. it takes place around when dunkirk was filming, just fyi. 
> 
> enjoy xx

harry styles is on his doorstep. nick’s heart stops, of course it does, because it’s bloody _harry styles_ with hair shorter than nick’s ever seen on him and a cautious look on his face. 

it’s been five fucking years and nick’s still not gotten used to harry coming and going, to harry disappearing for fucking months and then showing up like nothing’s wrong. nick pretends he’s fine with it but something catches in his chest every time he thinks about it. 

he doesn’t think about it often. 

“grimmy,” harry says uncertainly. nick steps back and lets him in without a word. the stupid bloody sign with its stupid bloody light is on, and harry gives it a glance as he toes off his shoes. nick suddenly wishes he never switched it on this morning. he wishes he’d never unpacked it when he moved, just left it in a box in a closet. 

but he’s been gone for harry for too long, and it’s too difficult to quit now.

“hiya,” he says finally, too delayed to make his fake cheerfulness seem even remotely sincere. “come on in.” 

pig’s where he left her, napping on the rug, and he resists the urge to scoop her up to use as a shield. harry knows him too well for that, anyway. 

“how’ve you been? i heard you’re in a film. you’ll be a proper movie star now, not just a pop star.” 

“grimmy.” 

“surprised you’re not in california right now, actually. what with it being the rainiest summer in the _world_ here.” 

harry seems to deflate at this. he sticks his hands in his hoodie pocket and shrugs. 

“filming in france until the end of august.” 

“oh.”

“It’s not been so bad there,” harry adds. nick hangs on every word, he can’t help it. “not like l.a. but fine enough.” 

“why are you here, if you’re still filming?” 

harry shrugs again, eyes drifting around the room. nick watches as they focus on the picture of him on the mantle, the one nick’d brought when he’d gone with fiona to see one direction at the o2. it’s got a place of honour, because nick is a fucking idiot and he’s fucking stupid for harry styles. 

“we had a break and i thought i’d like come and see you?” it ends like a question. nick hates that and he doesn’t know if it’s the uncertainty in harry’s voice or the fact that harry’d just assumed yet again that nick wanted to see him. 

“it didn’t end so well last time,” nick says. he doesn’t mean to, but he’s not sorry for it either. harry cringes. 

last time they’d seen each other, nick had stormed out and drunk an entire bottle of red wine by himself. harry had gotten on a plane and left the continent for two months. he doesn’t even remember what they fought about, just that it had ended with barbs sharp enough to cause damage. 

“i’m sorry about that. for saying all that.” 

nick doesn’t sneer, but he thinks about it. he’s not a stroppy teenager anymore, he’s like to think he’s matured. he pinches the bridge of his nose instead and doesn’t look at harry. 

“what do you want?” 

“to see you,” harry says immediately. 

“to see me or to get fucked by me,” nick snaps and harry takes a half step back. “no, wait. i’m sorry, that was… not good. i’m sorry.” 

maybe he’s not as mature as he thought he was. 

“i wanted to see you,” harry repeats. “cos you’re one of my friends and i’ve missed you, grim. i don’t like it when you’re angry with me.” 

“i don’t like being angry with you.” 

“then don’t be.” 

nick closes his eyes. “it’s not that simple.” 

“why not?” he can tell from harry’s voice that he’s pouting and he squeezes his eyes tighter. 

he’s got scars that are five years old and still haven’t healed, scar tissue covering his heart until he can barely recognize it. harry styles likes to cause damage and leave before the fallout, and then come back before he’s healed. nick wonders if louis and taylor and kendall and god knows who else has still-oozing wounds because of harry. 

he’s been in love with him for five goddamn years, and it still surprises him when it slices his chest.

“i’m tired of being hurt by you,” he whispers, finally opening his eyes, and harry’s face contorts in pain. “you keep leaving, and keep fucking hurts and it won’t stop.”

“it’s not fair to blame me for that,” harry says lowly. 

“isn’t it?” 

harry doesn’t answer that and they stare at each other across nick’s lounge, pig sleeping in the middle of it all. there’s nothing more nick wants to do than touch him, reach out and tangle his hands in harry’s shirt. pull him close and feel the shorn edges of harry’s hair on his palms, the softness of his skin on his fingers. 

harry looks at him and nick knows, he just knows how it’s going to play out tonight. he knows it’s going to end with them in bed, harry underneath him, and he hates himself for wanting it so much. 

he laughs once, a desperate sound. 

“why are you here, harry,” he asks again, delaying the inevitable. 

“i’m not the only one,” harry says, a little suddenly. “i know what you think about me and like, i’m not the only one, okay? i’m flighty and i leave but you— you don’t take it seriously. don’t take _me_ seriously.” 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“god, you don’t even know. i would’ve given you anything, nick. anything.” he’s frustrated, hands at his hair and tugging like he used to do when it was long. nick’s never seen him so agitated. “and you just pat me on the head like i’m a fucking kid.”

“you _are_ just a fucking kid! you can’t even stay in one place—“ 

“i can’t stand it,” harry yells and it’s nick’s turn to take a step back. harry doesn’t yell at people. “i want… _so much_ and it’s all-- it’s all--” he cuts himself off and takes a steadying breath. “you’d break my heart and that… that scares me.” 

“that’s not an excuse,” nick says, ignoring the flash of anger that goes through him.

“i know it’s not. but it’s still true.” he drops his gaze to the ground, pulling at his lip like he’s nervous. nick moves before he’s even aware of it, tugging at harry’s hand so he leaves his mouth alone.

“hey. don’t.” 

now that he’s touching harry, he can’t stop. his fingers slide up harry’s arm without nick’s permission until they’re cradling harry’s cheek. he thumbs at the faint red mark on harry’s lip before meeting harry’s eyes. they’re staring at him, forehead creased and so bright bright green. 

“nick,” harry says and it’s a little broken. he presses a kiss to nick’s thumb, a brief one that’s more a brush of his mouth than an actual kiss. nick’s fingers feel like they’re on fire everywhere he’s touching harry. 

he really hates that he’s this predictable and he really fucking hates how right this feels. 

“nick,” harry begs again. his eyes are desperate and there’s a familiar blush high in his cheeks. “nick, please.” 

“yeah,” nick answers, vaguely defeated. this is all sorts of wrong but he can’t quite remember the exact reasoning why. he’s too busy listening to the way harry’s breath hitches when nick strokes over his cheekbone. 

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” harry murmurs and nick slides his hand down to rest in the curve of harry’s neck instead. he tightens his grip and harry willingly tips forward, mouth eager on nick’s skin. it feels good, so good, and nick’s a little lightheaded from it all when harry bites on the hinge of his jaw. 

“bed?” he manages, ignoring the hatred bubbling in his stomach. he’ll deal with that later. 

“kiss me first,” harry asks and nick obliges, lips sliding together until they fit. they’ve had years of practice at this, know exactly how to make it work. harry’s mouth is wicked and clever and sweet, and nick nips at his lip to hear him whine. “god, grim. bed. _now_.” 

they stumble over everything on the way to the bedroom, clothes and shoes and fucking air. nick doesn’t think about the nightmare this is going to turn out to be, and concentrates on running his fingers over every piece of skin that appears. 

harry sprawls out on the pillows, flushed and squirming and desperate, and all nick can think about, all he wants.

christ, it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath when the dust settles. he can’t quite care. 

 

harry’s still there in the morning, snoring gently as nick tiptoes around the room and gathers his clothes. he gets dressed in his bathroom and concentrates on not panicking. he leaves the dark house into the weak morning light, picking up a coffee and a smoothie on his way. 

fiona traces the lovebite on his neck with her eyes and her face creases with worry. 

“nick,” she starts and he cuts her off with a cheery “good morning!” she gets the hint and doesn't ask about it, biting her lip and forehead still wrinkled. he pokes at it with a finger. 

“careful,” he tells her, “it'll stay like that.” 

“oh, bugger off,” replies fiona, swatting his hand. he gives her a wink and sits down at his computer. 

“what have we got for today?” he almost sounds normal. 

 

he gets home with two muffins in a bag from the little bakery harry loves. chocolate, because nick figured they could both do with some comfort. 

the bed is empty, nicely done up the way nick likes. he sits on the edge and puts his head in his hands. 

all morning he’s been debating what would be worse to come back to: harry gone or harry here, and he's settled on the latter. but now, he sort of wishes he wasn't alone. 

there's the soft sound of footsteps and nick feels the heat of another body, recognizes the legs in front of him. 

“nick?” harry asks and his voice is so, so careful. “are you alright?”

nick tips his head up to look at him, feeling his heart break yet again as harry slips a hand into his hair. 

“i’m… fine.” 

harry frowns and plays with the strands. 

“you're not.” 

“we can just pretend otherwise,” nick says in a whisper because he can’t get enough air to make it louder. harry’s eyes are wide and worried, but he nods once, bending down to smudge his mouth against nick’s. nick responds quickly, leans back easily until he’s flat on his back and harry’s a warm weight on top of him. 

“i thought you’d left,” he breathes against harry’s skin. harry twitches. 

“did you want me to?” 

nick kisses him again instead of answering, rolling them over so he’s hovering over harry, arms framing his head. 

“you’re lovely,” he says. it was an accident, but harry’s eyes go soft at the comment. nick ducks his head and kisses along harry’s chest to hide his expression, hide the fondness that can’t help but spread across his face. harry’s tense under his mouth, trembling like he’s going to shake out of his skin.

he jumps when nick bites at his clavicle. 

“jesus,” he says around a breath. “warn me first.” 

nick ignores him, soothing the sting with his tongue and moving up to repeat the process. he keeps going until harry’s hips are bucking up from the bed. his breath’s gone ragged, a flush spread down his chest. 

“nick,” he says in a pleading voice and nick takes mercy on him, moves back up so they’re face to face again. he brushes his lips against harry’s, barely touching, just to hear the frustrated sigh harry gives. 

“what do you want?” 

harry opens his eyes and there’s just a hint of green around the pupils. he looks at nick and doesn’t hesitate for a second. 

“you.” 

nick nods once, slowly. 

“okay.” 

and then he ducks his head to give him just that. 

 

they lie in bed facing each other, naked and tacky and breathless. a sheet’s halfheartedly pulled up to their hips, and they’re so close they’re sharing breaths. nick’s got a few bruises on his hips and arms and neck; he’ll probably have to wear something obnoxious to work if they don’t fade by monday.

“i don’t like it when you’re angry with me,” harry says again, quietly. nick rubs their noses together and sighs. 

“i don’t like it either.” 

“don’t be mad at me ever again.” 

he sounds so young and nick has the strangest urge to laugh. he doesn’t, just pushes his face harder into the pillow and tries not think about anything. 

harry reaches forward to trace the lines of nick’s face, stroking his hair too. it’s gentle and it’s soft and something catches in nick’s chest. he knows he’s in love, knows it for certain. it’s the most awful feeling in the world. 

 

somehow, he’s not surprised when he wakes up alone in the afternoon. he’s not surprised but it still hurts. the bed’s cold and pig’s on her mat and there’s no trace of anyone else staying the night. 

nick’s not sure what he was hoping for, but it wasn’t this. 

he fiddles with his coffee maker and roots around in his cupboards while it’s brewing. there’s a bottle of whiskey there and he tips a good bit into his mug. it’s too early to be drinking, really, but maybe it’s more acceptable if he puts it in his coffee. 

“oh, fuck it,” he says out loud and swallows a huge mouthful. there’s no one to judge him except pig, and she doesn’t care at all. he takes another sip and abandons the coffee, wandering into the lounge with the bottle firmly in his hand. 

“don’t ever fall in love, pig dog,” he says quietly and pig’s ears perk up at his name. “it’s completely and totally shit.” 

she barks once, tail wagging, and jumps up on the sofa beside him. strictly, she’s not allowed, but he’s never been one for the rules. he scritches her around the ears and keeps drinking. 

everything aches, everything down to his bones, and he has no idea how to make it stop.

 

summer fades into autumn which fades into winter. harry is still nowhere to be found, still a shadow on the corners of his life, still a painful memory. nick does what he always does and just keeps going. 

“keep calm and carry on,” he mutters dryly to himself after another night alone. “how very british of me.” 

he might be a little drunk. he might be a little drunk most nights, but the wine’s _right there_ and harry is not. it dulls everything and makes it easier to swallow. 

he just wants one night when he’s not miserable. one fucking night. 

 

there’s a pounding on the door, an all too familiar sound. nick knows who it is before he even opens it, but he does anyway because he’s a fucking masochist. 

“i don’t want to talk to you,” he says and harry blinks. he’s wet to the bone, standing in the freezing rain like ryan gosling in _the notebook._ nick would know, harry’s made him watch it so many times. what a fucking joke. 

“nick.” 

“i don’t _,”_ he repeats, a little more forcefully, “want to talk to you.” 

“not even to explain?” harry asks quietly. “five seconds? i’ll take whatever you’ll give.” nick shakes his head. 

“why are you even here, harry? why do you keep coming back around? i can’t fucking do this anymore.” 

harry’s face crumples and he buries it in his hands, his shoulders shaking to nick’s horror. 

“i’m here to say sorry,” harry mumbles between heaving breaths. “i-- oh, fuck this.” he lifts his head and wipes at his face. it’s blotchy and a tiny bit swollen already. maybe he’d already been crying before he came and nick hadn’t even noticed. 

it takes a moment for him to realise harry’s reaching out, takes a moment for it to process that harry’s tipping into him with an all-familiar expression. it takes him an eternity to wrench himself away. 

“what the fuck are you trying to do?” 

“nick,” he says and he’s crying again. “i’m sorry, i don’t--”

“you can’t just come here and try and kiss me, what the fuck?” 

“i wasn’t thinking, i’m sorry.” 

he’s shaking now and nick, despite everything, can’t leave him like that. he’s not cruel enough to leave a sobbing harry styles out in the cold. he’s not strong enough. 

“fuck. come in, i guess.” 

harry does, tracking water all over the floor and standing very morosely in the hall like a drowned cat. nick’s got half a mind to let him stay like that. there’s no point in giving him a towel if he’s going out in a minute, as soon as he stops his shaking. 

harry sneezes, a shudder going through after, and nick gives in. 

“stay there,” he mutters, going to the bathroom for the biggest towel he can find. throwing it at harry, he leans against the door and crosses his arms. 

“what the fuck, harry.” 

“i hate myself,” harry says, muffled from under the towel. “i’m sorry and i hate myself.” 

“i don’t fucking care,” nick snaps. harry flinches. “this isn’t a pity party. i still don’t understand why you’re here after you left _again_ and didn’t come back.” 

“i made a mistake.” 

“yeah, no shit.” 

harry sneezes again, looking up at nick. there’s hesitation written all over his face and he’s chewing on his lip. 

“so you just used me to get off, then?.” nick’s voice is bored, carefully masked to hide any shaking. “back in the summer. let me fuck you and then fucked off.” 

“i already said i’d take anything you gave me,” harry answers, slow and measured. it hits nick like a physical blow. 

“fuck you,” nick says, very quietly. “you can leave now.”

he around, stalking back to the kitchen when harry’s voice stops him in his tracks. 

“i was in love with you, nick. i am in love with you.” 

nick cannot deal with this. he literally does not have the emotional capacity to comprehend what’s coming out of harry’s mouth. his heart feels like it’s being shredded, absolutely shredded, and nothing he can do will stop it.

“you’re not.” 

“i am.” 

“you’re _not,_ ” nick bites out, whirling around on his heel. he’s very suddenly, very intensely furious, so furious it feels like an actual thing clawing out of his throat. “you are not fucking in love with me and don’t you ever fucking say that again.”

“i’m--” 

“you don’t fuck off and leave people you love for months. you just _don’t._ i don’t know what the fuck you’re feeling, but it sure as hell isn’t love. and for fuck’s sake, would you stop fucking _crying._ ” 

“i don’t know how to make you believe me,” harry croaks, scrubbing at his face again. 

“don’t leave, for one,” nick retorts and harry looks at him, stubbornness tipping his mouth down. 

“okay,” says harry and sits down on the ground. “okay, i won’t.” 

“you’re a fucking idiot,” he snarls and stalks back into the living room, very carefully not caring about the bedraggled boy who can’t stop breaking his heart. 

 

harry’s still there when nick stumbles out in the morning. he’s moved onto the sofa to sleep, one of the blankets thrown over him and his shoes nicely lined up next to him. his clothes are flung over the radiator.

nick sighs. his anger burned off his skin last night until it smoldered into something small, something not threatening anymore. 

sitting on the armchair, he alternates between scrolling through his phone and watching the boy sleeping. harry’s magnetic that way; nick can’t look away, no matter how angry he is. 

“are you still mad at me,” harry mumbles, cracking his eyes open a tiny bit. nick jumps. 

“yeah.” 

“i’m still here.” 

“for now,” nick says mildly and sips at his cup of coffee. harry frowns, pushing his hair out of his face. it’s more out of habit than necessity, nick thinks, because it’s not quite long enough to be _in_ his face. it’s endearing and it shouldn’t be. 

“i wrote a song about you.” 

“i don’t care.” 

“it’s a sad song,” says harry. “when did we become a tragedy?” 

“we weren’t anything else.” 

harry sits up, wraps the blanket around his bare shoulders. “it wasn’t, in the beginning. remember that, when we couldn’t be apart from each other. that wasn’t a tragedy.” 

“wasn’t it?” nick answers carefully, staring down at his phone. “felt like it, even then. you kept leaving.” 

“i kept coming back, too. don’t forget that part,” harry tells him.

“i hate it when people leave,” nick says, so softly he can barely hear himself. harry does, though. 

“this time, i won’t,” harry says. “i promise, i won’t.” 

“don’t promise that to me. you don’t mean it.” 

“i do.” 

“harry…” 

“nick,” harry says back, standing up from the sofa and crossing over to nick. 

this time, nick doesn’t stop the kiss from happening, just tips his head back and lets harry squeeze in past his defences again. 

he’s a fucking idiot setting himself up for heartbreak again, but harry’s mouth is on his and nick can’t quite care about anything else. 

“i love you,” harry breathes against his skin, making nick shudder and hold him tighter. if he holds tight enough, maybe harry will never go. “nick, i love you.” 

nick squeezes his eyes together and wills himself not to cry, pressing his forehead to harry’s shoulder. everything in him screams not to say anything, but he still does. 

“i love you too.” 

harry stills for a second before nudging nick’s chin up to look at him, a smile breaking out over his face like the dawn. it makes nick’s shredded heart twinge, so painful he can barely breathe. 

"you’re not going to leave. please don’t leave,” he says, watching harry’s face crumple. 

“never,” says harry, pressing a kiss to nick’s forehead, and _christ_ that hurts. harry’s mouth slots over his again, his fingers brushing away at the wetness on nick’s cheeks, and just for a moment, the pain dims a bit. just for a fleeting moment, nick believes him. 

 

harry doesn’t leave in the morning, or the next morning and slowly, nick learns to trust him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! i'm over on tumblr @bigbrotherlouis if you wanna come talk!!


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